But there was sense to all this splurging, Bearcat was convinced. Babe was the inspiration of a round of parties that was heading him for solid popularity and fame. There was insight and method in her entertainments. He could see that, plain as water. Babe was a brilliant social success, an irresistible hostess. Everybody liked her. Everybody came to pay homage to her. That’s what counted.

He imagined it was the influence of her charm and priceless personality that was lifting him into the limelight, building him into a commanding figure, weaving prominence about him, making him colorful.

Of course the news of their marriage immediately got into the papers. It was hot stuff and the tabloids ate it up. Charlie was wild every time he picked up a paper and saw Babe’s name connected with the Bearcat. She was taking space that Charlie wanted for his promotion schemes.

The Bearcat put some money down as a first payment on a snappy roadster with a rumble seat. His intention was to pay up the remainder with part of the winnings in his coming fight, for his bank roll was dwindling under an avalanche of bills. He taught Babe to drive the car and they made quite a flash with it.

Everywhere they went Babe shared the spotlight with Bearcat. Race track powers, ball players, actors, theater managers were shaking hands with him, many of them dropping in at the apartment for a sociable drink of something “real,” or sending around flowers and candy to Babe.

They kept open house while Charlie was negotiating the bout which was to win Bearcat the middle-weight championship.

Charlie spent hours cautioning the Bearcat against fast living, for well he knew that booze melted the iron concentration in the brain so vital to success and he feared the effect on the Bearcat’s stamina of this marriage which he would have done anything to prevent. The Bearcat was already taking on waist and losing the vital glow of health.

The day set for the big fight drew near, and suddenly the Bearcat realized that he could not continue the fast pace. He had been spending only two and three days a week training since he was married. The rest of the time he got to bed too late to get down to the gym at an early hour, and he always felt sluggish and languid after a night of dissipation. Charlie was furious, and insisted that he spend at least two weeks in the country at his training camp.

So Bearcat said to Babe one morning,

“I think, honey, that I better start and do some hard trainin’. It’s gettin’ near the big fight an’ I want to win it—for you. Pack up my togs. I’m going to work for Charlie and pound the roads for two weeks.”